


Don't Let The Sun Go Down (On Me)

by landrews



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landrews/pseuds/landrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ohana means picking up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let The Sun Go Down (On Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Coda for 3.01
> 
> Very mild pre-slash
> 
> Written October 2012
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine- characters owned by Lenkov, CBS, et al- Just borrowing them for some transformative fiction-
> 
> Thank you: very, very much to my whip-cracking beta, starlet2367, without whom this fic would've been kinda 'meh', lolol- thanks for saying, nope, not there yet, nope, not there yet, oh, there it is :-) I don't know what I'd do without you.
> 
> A/N: Title from Sir Elton John's song of the same name. To me, it fits both Steve and Chin perfectly.

 

“So,” Danny says, once the sun is only a glow on the horizon and Doris's plane is well and truly gone. Steve glances over, but he's still unfocused, digesting what Danny's told him. The lingering exhaust and sharp, rich scent of aviation fuel have filled Danny's nose and sinuses and together are trying to burrow down behind his eyes and set up house. He tilts his head towards the Camaro in invitation.

Steve heads for the passenger side, which says a lot about his mental state. “I fucked up, Danny. I shouldn't have let her go before the scene was processed.”

“McGarrett. She's with some agency you don't have enough clearance to know anything about. And she's your Mom. Anyone would've done the same.”

“How about you?” he asks across the top of the car. The sun burnishes his cheekbones, spreads long fingers of red across his face.

Danny shrugs. “Yeah.” Been there, babe, he thinks.

He doesn't want to talk about Matty. He watches the HPD escort rumble past them. The motorcycles disappear into the dark of the tarmac in pairs, though the echo of their passing takes minutes to fade. Inside the hanger, two US Marshals are still speaking to one of the airline staff. The ground crew is standing near the tool benches, sipping from bottles of water and waiting for everyone to clear out.

When he looks back at Steve, he sees the dark shadows carved under Steve's eyes, three days of stubble, his own hand ripping open the velcro on Steve's shot-to-hell vest while Steve tried not to grimace too much. The bruises must be dark purple by now. He wonders what they talked about, Steve and his Mom, on the way back from Japan. If they did talk. If she knows he took three bullets in the back just the day before. Maybe they just traded questions and mumbled 'it's classified' to each other in answer. That's what he should have said when Doris started in on him and Grace and Gabby; 'it's classified'.

“It crossed my mind earlier, to ask you if you're absolutely sure Doris is your mother, but...”

“But?”

“You guys are a lot alike.”

Steve frowns at him before screwing his lips up and dropping bonelessly into the passenger seat.

Danny wrenches his door open. “What?” he says, getting in. He slams the door closed at the same time   
Steve slams his. “What is that face for?”

“I'm running her prints and Charlie's doing DNA. Cath got them for me.”

Danny laughs. “Of course you are. Don't worry. She's your Mom.”

They're rolling through the security gate onto Elliot Street when Steve straightens in his seat. “Where's Chin?”

“With Max when I left. He wanted some time with Malia. Asked him to keep Delano and his minions as far away from her as possible until she's released to the funeral home.” Danny knows just how he feels, wanting those guys nowhere near Malia. He loathes the fact that Rick ever laid hands on Grace, and regrets he only shot him once.

A pained grunt crawls out of Steve's chest. He digs out his cell and docks it on speaker.  
Chin doesn't pick up, but Max does when Steve tries him instead. “Hey, Max, is Chin still there?”

“No, Commander, he left moments after arriving with Detective Williams.”

“But,” Danny starts.

“Thanks, Max,” Steve says and fingers the phone.

Chin doesn't pick up. The shrill rings fill the Camaro even as they scoop out a hollow beneath Danny's breastbone. Around the next curve of the winding road, he rides up too hard on the bumper of a wide cargo load. “Fuck,” he breathes, and hits the brake.

Steve stabs at the end button when Chin's voicemail kicks in.

Kono answers on the second ring. “Yeah, Boss.”

“You got eyes on Chin?”

“No,” she says, drawing the word out. “He's with Danny, but he's staying with me tonight, said he'd be here by eight.”

“That gives him about three hours on his own,” Danny says, thinking out loud. “I was him, I'd go home.”

“Shit,” Steve sighs, at the same time Kono says, “Danny?”

His gut churning against the stale coffee and half a ham sandwich he'd been bolting when Charlie called with the ballistics, Danny swings onto the H-1, slicing between a semi and a Honda to get over to the left lane.

“I'll meet you there,” Kono says, sounding guilty. “I never should've...”

Which just, yeah, Danny should've, too, but... Danny's hand slashes through the air. “Stop it, both of you, with the should've, could've, would've's. Just. We're his ohana, right? Let's just get there.”

Steve nods. Kono's silent. Danny huffs his breath out. Grace's weight is pressed against him, her legs wrapped around his waist, Steve's warm hand on his back, red and blue lights paint the darkness surrounding them, pushing it back. Chin's sitting in the dark right now. Alone.

Danny hits his blue lights and the gas and roars around the station wagon that swerves over to get out of his way. Steve spreads his feet and wedges himself a little more firmly against the angle of his seat and the door, but he doesn't say anything and he doesn't look at the road. He just keeps on watching Danny.

“Okay, then,” he continues when he can breathe again. “All right. We'll meet you there, Kono, okay?”

“Yeah, Danny. See you there.”

***

The moon is low and large on the horizon when they pull up to Chin's, its light bouncing on something in the grass of the yard. Danny's breath catches at the same time Steve grasps his forearm. It's the chrome of Chin's bike, laid down near the front steps.

Danny turns off the engine and after a second Steve lets him go and tugs on his door. Danny gets out and waits for him to come around before moving up the walk. Danny can't help staring at the bike. It's just so wrong to see it lying there like that.

On the stoop, Steve raises his fist to pound on the door. Danny frowns, opening his mouth to inform Steve that's not how a civilized person knocks, but then closes it and reaches for the knob instead. The latch depresses under his thumb and the door is opening before Steve's fist lands. Steve hisses and ducks under the yellow tape, following him into the dark, silent house, his arm brushing down past Danny's so that Danny knows he's reaching for his gun. Danny does the same.

The moon pours through open blinds and sheer curtains. The big french doors halfway down the great room are luminous. Danny steps to the left and Steve goes right, flowing like water towards the couch. “Danny,” he says, straightening and sliding his gun back onto his hip. He tips his chin at the very back of the room, the kitchen.

Under the fresh, lemon clean, there's a lingering odor of roasted meat. Steve skirts the couch, ignoring the large, arched doorway to his left, though Danny swings his gun up to cover it. There's no movement or sound. He breathes out and follows Steve. Danny's almost past the dining room table before he actually sees Chin sitting on the floor in front of the oven, his knees drawn up, elbows resting on them with his hands hanging down. His gun lays on the floor between his feet. He's awake, head up and draped in shadows, but Danny's pretty sure his dark eyes don't move at all to take them in. His empty stare remains fixed, slightly downward and to his right.

His throat closing, Danny drops his own eyes in response, looking for whatever Chin's not really seeing anymore. The bloodstain is a dark splotch against the white rug, which seems blindingly bright under the moonlight. He glances over at Steve, who startles in a small way, like Danny had said his name out loud in the hush, and drags his gaze up from the rug to meet Danny's.

They step forward at the same time. Danny needs his gloves, but his gun's still in his hands. He scowls down at it. Gloves. He needs his gloves. He holsters his gun and digs out the pair of gloves he keeps in his pocket. It seems to take forever to pull them on. Steve's stopped, just looking at Chin, his face blank. Danny slips into the kitchen to the left, stepping over the small bowl on the floor and crouches down to roll the end of the rug on itself. Chin doesn't move.

When the rug's clear of Steve's feet, Steve goes to Chin's side and lowers himself to sit beside him. Danny has no idea if SIS is done processing. Delano didn't kill Malia himself, so they'll need to figure out which of his assholes did and if that one's among the dead from last night. The rug's not heavy when he hefts it up to move it around the partial wall and set it out of the way in the dining room. He pulls his gloves off inside out, folds them together and leaves them on the rolled rug.

When he comes back in, Chin shudders silently and closes his eyes.

Danny turns and sits down, too, leaning into the cabinet behind him and letting his legs sprawl out in front of him. On the other side of Chin, Steve settles in quarter inch increments, until he is still as stone, even his breath nearly silent. Danny feels noisy next to them. He can't just look at one thing. His gaze roams and bounces from the french doors to the two place settings at the table. His heart is too loud in his ears and his breath is uneven. He keeps thinking about the soft, cool grass under his bare feet at the wedding. How silly he thought it was at first to be barefoot, but then how perfect it seemed as Malia and Chin came down the aisle, and then how the flash of their feet as they danced mesmerized him. He'd pressed the side of his own bare foot to Steve's as they sipped their beers, watching, and Steve hadn't moved away, only leaned in closer.

He concentrates on that feeling, on slowing his breath, and his eyes close on their own. They've all been up an ungodly amount of time. Two nights and three full days. Sixty hours? Yeah. About that. There'd been the street clean-up, inventory and control of the drugs, securing statements from witnesses, follow-up at the hospital, setting up a second, secure location for Doris, follow-up at the first safe house, a drag net and cursory door-to-door search for Wo Fat in that perimeter, endless forms to fill out to push vital stuff through the lab and morgue on high priority, to steal more manpower, to satisfy the governor and the chief, and the feds. A short press conference and meetings with all the above. There were death notifications and BOLOs and communications to the airport and harbors to organize and transport to plan.

Danny'd caught two naps, one after midnight and one early in the afternoon, alternating with Kono, and he knows Chin conked for five hours early that morning. Steve might've slept the six hours from Japan, but Danny kind of doubts that. He remembers waking once on his office couch last night and letting Steve's voice as he spoke on the phone soothe him back down again.

Luckily, before he can really doze off, Kono, voice soft, calls out as she comes through the door. 

“Steve?”

Nobody answers her. It's not necessary. She crouches down directly in front of Chin, her hands resting on his forearms. When Chin doesn't open his eyes, just breathes in a deep breath and lets it out slow, Kono leans forward and kisses his forehead.

As she stands, she palms Chin's gun so smoothly that Danny almost misses it. She walks back to the arched doorway and disappears. A light comes on and Danny can hear her moving around, opening and closing doors. Closet door, he figures. The bathroom, maybe. In minutes, she reappears, a small duffle in her hand. Danny draws his knees up. Steve pats Chin's leg and says, “C'mon, brah.”

They all get up and follow Kono, Steve steering Chin through the house with one hand on his shoulder, Danny trailing behind. Outside, Chin's motorcycle has been moved to the driveway next to Malia's car. Adam is leaning against Kono's. His SUV is parked out on the street.

Reaching back under the crime scene tape, Danny closes the door. Steve says something quiet and then Chin is handing him his keys, which Steve hands off to Danny so he can lock up. When he catches up, Chin's saying thank you to Adam. They shake hands. Adam brushes Kono's cheek with his hand, nods at Steve and Danny, and goes out to the curb without looking back. He doesn't start his truck, though, just gets inside and waits.

Chin clears his throat and finally meets Steve's eyes, turning after a moment to include Danny when he says, “Mahalo.”

“My house is yours, Chin,” Steve says. “Anytime it all gets too much- just help yourself. Whatever you need.”

Chin nods and makes his way around to the passenger side of Kono's Cruze.

“Where is everyone?” Danny asks Kono, nearly whispering. At home, the relatives and neighbors would be swarming by now, some even sitting vigil in front of the house if it were sealed off.

“Chin asked that no one come just yet. They'll be knocking on my door first thing tomorrow and gathering at Aunty Hani's, too. Malia's family is handling the hospital and all her friends there. They're already giving Chin some grief over when she'll be released so they can make arrangements.”

Danny's blood pressure rises as she speaks. “They're blaming him,” Danny states. “Cutting him out.”

“Chin will get what he needs,” Kono says firmly.

Steve is chewing his lip when Danny looks at him. Steve looks back, his eyes too full of everything he's been through the last few days. Danny tears himself away, can't look at him right now. “Okay,” he tells Kono, handing her Chin's keys. “You know where we are. Keep us in the loop. Send him our way when he needs it.”

She hugs him quick, kisses Steve's cheek.

They watch as she backs out onto the deserted street and drives away. Adam pulls out behind her, staying close.

“I want HPD on this house and Kono's tonight, and at Aunty Hani's tomorrow, wherever she lives.”

Danny pulls his cell out. Steve stops him. His hand is warm. He ducks his head, meeting Danny's eyes when he looks up, surprised. “No, I got it, Danno. You drive, okay?"

“All right, babe. Your house?”

He nods, already dialing dispatch as they walk to the car. “Chinese or Thai?”

“Chinese,” Danny decides, opening his door.

“Stay tonight, okay?”

Steve is leaning on the roof, staring across at him. It's not like Danny's eyes aren't gritty and his legs like lead. It's not like he doesn't have clean underwear and clothes, half his DVDs, and a fairly fresh razor already at McGarrett's. But Steve doesn't usually ask. Danny usually just falls asleep and Steve doesn't bother to wake him.

“All right.”

It feels like a step forward in this odd dance they have, one to which Danny doesn't know the moves. Steve's more than... just more. Danny cares more about him than anyone other than Grace and he doesn't really understand why. Steve's irritating and annoying and sometimes Danny really hates him.

Steve nods and they both get in. He glares at his phone, probably trying to remember what he was doing and finally hits send, lifting it to his ear, dismissing Danny.

Danny shakes his head and starts the car. He's remembering his conversation with Doris, how he'd lied about being in a relationship, about taking it slow. Gabby left him hanging a few weeks ago, but she's the one he was thinking of as he blabbed. He remembers how he kept looking to Steve to get him out of the conversation, waiting for him to hang up the phone. He glances over now. Warmth stirs low in his belly. Listening to Steve's voice even as he ignores the words, Danny's shoulders loosen.

Yeah. Not so much a lie, he guesses. And he'd bet his Camaro Doris saw right through it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Heh. The fic is Danny POV, but the title is ALL Steve and Chin, both, and so are the lyrics- they tie so very well to their relationships with Danny and Malia- When it popped in my head, I was all...ohhhhh...
> 
> _I can't light no more of the darkness_  
>  All my pictures seem to fade to black and white  
> I'm growing tired and time stands still before me  
> Frozen here on the ladder of my life  
> Too late to save myself from falling  
> I took a chance and changed your way of life  
> But you misread my meaning when I met you  
> Closed the door and left me blinded by the light  
> Don't let the sun go down on me  
> Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see  
> I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free  
> But losing everything is like the sun going down on me  
> I can't find, oh the right romantic line  
> But see me once and see the way I feel  
> Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm  
> But these cuts I have they need love to help them heal 


End file.
